The Gauntlet (Dawn of the Republic Pre-Roleplay)

[Soverin]

Vashiir was freed from the oppressive force as the Sith flailed to keep his balance, being thrown across the platform in a tumble that almost brought him over the edge.

"Remain within the red lines during departure." Mors was not within the red lines. He rested onto his back briefly and pushed up with his hands at either side of his head, regaining his posture. For as far as the eye could see was sprawling jungle, thousands of feet below them and hovering all around in their rocky clumps. Waterfalls cascaded from the floating islands and evaporated into nothingness mid-air. Exotic birds called out in choir, chirping and cawing to create a symphony of wild sounds.

The platform made a rickety trail across the railing as the bounty hunter and the Sith prepared for the next assault. Mors activated his saber and took a sidelong stance, holding his weapon out with a hooked arm in a point at Vashiir. His right arm, which he favoured being unoccupied for better force manipulation, simply waited vacantly. He wouldn't allow Vashiir to get the jump again; with all the animosity he could siphon he charged at the Farghul and thrust his blade forward in an attempt to impale him, redoubling by swinging the blade up in an arc and bringing it diagonally down to catch him in any attempt at countering. A dismissive cleave.

 

[Vashiir]

Vashiir rose slowly as he gained mobility once more, Mors' oppressive force powers having been lifted from his person as he lost his focus with the movement of the platform that they were upon. Though, his time spent rising was not met with any idle moments from Mors, Vashiir facing the stab of a lightsaber screaming for his abdomen in a thrust. Pivoting on his right foot, He'd just barely twist his body out of the way from the blade. Before he had the chance to retaliate, he'd find himself having to react to Mors' having brought the blade up to ready for a downward swing. Barely reacting in time, Vashiir would have leaned backward as he pushed off the ground into a backflip at the last second, the very edge of Mors' saber sparking across the breast of his armor in a rain of sparks, an orange trail brandished into the plating from the heat. Following through with his display of acrobatics, Vashiir found his hands being placed right at the edge of the platform, gripping the edge and and swinging down underneath the platform.

From there, Mors would only hear the scuttling of Vashiir climbing about the metal framing which served as the skeleton for the platform. Not long after, Mors would suddenly hear the sound of blaster fire, bolts of blue energy piercing the bottom of the platform and flying upward in his relative vicinity though the shots were far from accurate, given they were blindly fired.

 

[Soverin]

Mors threw himself through the air to dodge the upward barrage of blaster bolts, tumbling across the platform and skidding to a stop at it's edge. He couldn't match the Farghul's acrobatics, and so he was a sitting duck until he chose to reveal himself once again.

The Sith looked around the span between islands for a way to retaliate, but all that stood to hang was the platform and railing that guided it. It gave him an idea, albeit a crazy one. He stepped over the side of the platform and onto the railing, sidling along the thin metal that stood between him and plummeting to a quick death. In hand his lightsaber shot to life and he started to slice chunks of the railway away from it's base until the platform was on a crash course to slide off the rails and drop.

The wind forced him to sway as he balanced, but he kept his footing as he watched what would occur.

 

[Vashiir]

Vashiir would have ceased his firing upon hearing the vibrating sound of Mors' light saber swishing through the air and slicing through metal, a sinking feeling filling his gut as he peered to the track and saw the orange glow of heated metal, cut clean in half. He'd quickly begin to scramble for an edge of the platform, a sudden jerk nearly causing him to lose his grip and left the Farghul holding on with one hand to a beam under the platform. The wheels which ran along the track squealed as their progression was haulted, and the metal beams of the path creaking and beginning to shift as they started to break from the sudden change in distribution of weight along either side of the severed metal. Regaining his grip with a strained grunt, he'd manage to make it to the edge and pull himself up with effort, his arms tired from having clung for so long against the pull of gravity.

Without much thought for his foe, he'd scramble to the top of the now diagonally poised platform and quickly make his way to where it threatened to slip between the severed rails, leaping over the railing and swishing his tail as he balanced on the sturdier side of the right track, simply waiting there for Mors' to meet him opposite, since he had a feeling that is what the Sith had planned, though he could have been wrong. With blaster ready, he simply watched from behind the black dome of his helmet, the faintly flickering red triangle on the face of it pointed directly toward the darkly clad force user.